


Darling, Sweetheart!

by fakemagpies



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Community: tfa_kink, Crack, Hux is a Bishonen at One Point, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Non-Graphic Violence, Oblivious Hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:31:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6040111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakemagpies/pseuds/fakemagpies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hux is smiling, his cheek hovering over '87's hand so his ear wasn't obstructed to what he clearly expected to be an enthusiastic yes. He's radiating almost bright enough to power Starkiller and his strawberry blonde hair had managed to get become disheveled in the meantime. He looks almost normal and harmless. 'What do you say, FN-2187?'"</p><p>Prompt: Hux and Finn are kinda a thing. Hux enjoys the company of an obediant, gorgeous, wonderful man. Finn likes sleeping in a bed with satin sheets. It's casual. They're cool. Till Hux proposes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darling, Sweetheart!

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed writing this one!
> 
> Only edited lightly as I was writing so mistakes abound!

FN-2187 sat up in the bed, enjoying the silky, cool feeling of satin sliding against his skin. FN-2187 wasn't a man of expensive taste but that didn't mean he didn't like nice things when he could get them.Crab rotoven and baked dru'un slices in fish sauce for dinner; shirts made of fine, exotic fabrics; three-layers of charmeuse bed sheets plus an extra day off a month.

'87 stretches out as he yawns, anticipating a fine breakfast beyond the rainbow array of foodstuffs and pastes that is considered standard Stormtrooper fare. A contented sigh escaped his lips as he stares at the insides of an officers quarters.

Yup, FN-2187 was living the good life.

The record scratches on '87 ideal morning when General Hux emerges from the 'fresher, swiftly and precisely combing gelled hair. His face is freshly washed, uniform pristine, and his gloves were already drawn too tightly around his knuckles. "Good morning, FN-2187."

His voice was almost chipper and a nagging voice in '87's mind was screaming:  **red alert danger danger**. '87 promptly ignored it once he saw the breakfast waiting for him in the make-shift dining nook. "'Morning."

Hux moves to put on an antiquated gold watch (it didn't work, '87 notes, but he's learned that Hux is all about aesthetics) and his great coat (which also served no real purpose since the ship is climate controlled but Hux had worked hard at his image so '87 never says anything about it).

('87 carefully avoided looking at the General when he was putting on his shoulder pads on or putting the lifts in his boots.)

'87 is eating his meal haphazardly, scrolling through a holopad for interesting articles to read. He didn't notice Hux come up behind him until a heavy-hand rested on his shoulder and subsequently gave it a small squeeze. '87 didn't even have time to look before he felt cool lips graze his cheek and an outrageously tender voice in his ear. "I'm leaving now, FN-2187. Be sure to keep the door locked all day; don't let anyone see you." The general is practically exiting the room at this point but '87 is still looking at where Hux had snuck up on him and touched the place on his cheek where he swears frosty lip-prints are still lingering. "I'll join you for lunch at 01300 hours."

The moment the door closes behind the flow of Hux's great coat, '87 cocks his head, "What the hell was that all about?"

It was weird and not normal and very...domestic. '87 eyes narrow in on the foot of the bed. A tight black, short-sleeve undershirt and black training pants were laid out delicately, presumably for him. They looked like a set he owned.

'87's foray into the fresher was just as surreal. Were...were those his things from the communal fresher in the basket on the counter? '87 rummages through it's contents in a rush. Half a bottle of fine shampoo (they say Huttian crime lords pay extra money to own this stuff, despite having no hair to really speak of); matching conditioner; a custom mesh pouf in First Order colors; and an assortment of oils and skin creams with FN-2187 and a graphic warning not to use written distinctly across them all.

Yup. It was his stuff, alright. But when did he bring it to Hux's fresher? He had drunk a little too much of the strong drink Hux brought back from his trip planet side last night and could have brought the stuff over in drunk anticipation for their "sleepover", if you could call it that. '87 wasn't exactly sure what to call it beyond "first-time-he-doesn't-leave-Hux's-room-after-they've-had-sex." Hux had managed to get Finn the day off today and he was pretty excited because 'troopers never got a day off. Technically, he's supposedly planet side of an intel-gathering mission but that's a minor detail. He still gets to spend the day lounging around in Hux's spacious quarters.

'87's not proud of what he does but the Order has taught him from a young age that it's a dog-eat-dog world and you have to do what you can to survive. So '87 didn't push Hux's hand away or fidget when it lingered on his thigh a little too long. '87 been in this situation before with a Lieutenant. His situation with Hux was fantastic but the Lieutenant had the appealing quality of being a lot more straightforward than the general, something '87 appreciated. If '87 wanted lobster, he knew he'd have to get on his knees in some supply closet. New undershirt? Some rapid flicks of his wrist and the Lieutenant would be puddy in his hands.

'87 would have been bummed at the Lieutenant's transfer only a month after they'd reached their unspoken agreement if Hux's wandering hand hadn't introduced itself  to '87's thigh just a week later. The 'trooper can't stop the decadent, almost dreay, sigh that escapes into the soft, plush towel: there is no comparing a lousy Lieutenant to a First Order General.

And it was so easy. A quick fuck, maybe consent to one or two unusual kinks while he's at it, and '87's eating food he didn't know existed for breakfast and sleeping in satin sheets at night. The only drawback to it all was that '87 wasn't always sure what the general wanted and in his racket, that's important information. This is an exchange of goods after all and '87 won't let anyone accuse him of not holding up his end of the bargain.

Either way, it didn't bother '87 much. General Hux is surprisingly more vanilla than he expected compared to the Lieutenant. The Lieutenant liked it rough and fast; a means to an end. Hux? Hux always took his time: caressing, sucking, kissing--gently whispering things into '87's skin that he could never make out.

'87 gets everything he planned to do done fairly quickly. Maybe the reason why 'troopers don't get days off is because they wouldn't know what to do with them. So '87, despite having the day off, does what he knows best: sanitation.

Time rolls by quickly as, surprisingly, he enjoys his work and there is a lot of it. Despite all his rhetoric on order, Hux's room was a filthy mess. '87, the text-book neat-freak, would hate to room with Hux if the older man was a 'trooper. And, as if '87's thoughts had summoned him, the door opens to reveal Hux, pulling a cart of food into the room after him with one hand. He's staring at '87, who is dusting a corner with a make-shift duster, with a faint smile playing on his lips.

'87 can't really see the General, his face hardened and facing the ceiling corner where he's gripped in an epic showdown with space spiderwebs. He jumps when Hux's voice affectionately rings out as if touched by the fact that '87'd decided not to spend the entire day in the filth nest Hux called a room, "Did you clean up in here, FN-2187?"

There it is again, that voice fighting for volume in the back of his mind:  **danger danger red alert abort mission run now**. '87 jumps from the chair he was standing on and trips backwards, falling into Hux's arms. The red-head carries '87 bridal style to the bed, gently laying him down before taking a seat beside him. Hux's hand brushes against '87's forehead before those icy-cold lips meet '87's warm skin to leave an imprint. "Be careful, darling, you could get hurt."

The voice in his mind stopped for a moment then '87 hears it almost sigh: **in too deep, can't help you now, warned you, good luck, may the Force be with you.**

 _Darling?_ That's new, '87 thinks but this could be come new role playing thing the general's trying. Still, '87 can't shake how real it felt and how clear the voice was just then that '87 is at a loss for words as Hux continues to kiss his face until '87 feels he's stuck his face into a mound of snow. "Y-yeah."

Hux's cheeks turn a deep shade of red that quite suited him and contrasted well against the black of his uniform and great coat, '87 thinks. "FN-2187. I--" '87 is frightened to hear the light, schoolgirl chuckle that escapes the general's lips. "I want to you to know," the General won't stop stroking '87's cheek and giving him that tender look, "that you mean a lot to me."

'87 looks around as if to find a hidden camera. Was this a joke or something? "Okay...?" '87 manages to lift himself so he could press his back firmly against the headboard, leaving Hux's caressing hand to linger in the air daintily.

Hux seems annoyed that his speech was interrupted and moves his body closer to '87. The younger man manages to catch a glimpse of those icy blue eyes and finds them melting as Hux sucks at his neck.

This is better, the 'trooper thinks. That whole "darling" act must have been Hux's misguided attempt at giving '87 a torture boner. '87 is shamelessly moaning out Hux's first name, a name that makes '87 laugh when his body isn't being worked by it's namesake. Hux seems to responds favorably, climbing atop of '87, never breaking the constant of cool lips on hot skin until he was straddling the younger and cupping his face. '87 could feel their erections rub together and whined for Hux to keep going.

"N-no." Did Hux just stutter? '87 questions, "Darling, this isn't how to do it. Listen, I have something important to say."

Oh, that sneaky little voice is laughing: **you're trapped, no escape**. '87 ignores it. "That is...?"

"Marry me, FN-2187." Hux is smiling, unrestrained and, oh no, there are tears forming in his eyes. "Every since I first saw you, I've wanted you by my side. When--" Hux dramatically takes one of '87's hands and brings it to his face, pressing his cheek softly in '87's open palm. He's looking at '87 again, with misty eyes and a tender smile. '87 thinks there should be a halo of shining roses in the backdrop. "When I figured out what that Lieutenant was forcing you to do, I couldn't stand for it. I knew then that we needed to be together..."

'87 has learned to listen to Hux's words. Hux had a way with words that could distort reality beyond recognition without telling a single lie.

Hux's face turns fierce and he presses his cheek harder into '87's open palm while simultaneously using both of his hands to keep '87's against his cheek ('87 was doing his best to try and remove it). "I would have killed him for you. With my bare hands. I'd rip open his chest and meticulously mutilate each of his vital organs while keeping him alive to suffer through it." Hux's face turns soft again and '87 wishes the General would get off of him so he could run. A mournful sigh escaped Hux's lips and he brings '87's palm to his lips, gently kissing the center before speaking. "But in the process I would have had to report why I executed an officer. It would have ruined your reputation, my love, people would think horrible things even though I know he coerced you into those lewd acts, taking advantage of his position over you..." 

'87 blinks. Everyone, _literally everyone_ , on this ship knew about '87 and the Lieutenant's arrangement. There were hundreds of deals like that taking place on this ship everyday. Hux is literally the only one who doesn't know. Oh good Force, _why did it have to be Hux who doesn't know?_

Hux is smiling, his cheek hovering over '87's hand so his ear wasn't obstructed to what he clearly expected to be an enthusiastic yes. He's radiating almost bright enough to power Starkiller and his strawberry blonde hair had managed to get get disheveled in the meantime. He looks almost normal and harmless. "What do you say, FN-2187?"

But '87 is a trained solider. One of Phasma's best and leader of the FN Corps. He knew 'no' wasn't an option so he nodded quickly, half in fear and half in eagerness that Hux will get off of him once he gets an answer.

 **Oh, you poor fool** , the voice returns as Hux grabs either side of 87's face and kisses him deeply. 

"You'll be the happiest man in the universe," Hux's hand plays in '87's hair while his head rests on the 'trooper's opposite shoulder. He's looking up at '87, who is staring rigidly in front of him, and speaking softly in a happy, dizzying daze. "We'll rule this universe with an iron fist. My mind with your beauty, grace, and intelligence. Our children..."

'87's eyes go wide. Hux...with children. He is too mortified to even laugh incredulously. '87 doesn't stop to think about how Hux plans to acquire children because his mind is racing for ways to get as far from his sociopathic fiancée as possible

\---

Opportunity strikes too soon after a particularly horrifying experience on Jakku. '87 cannot figure out which was worse: being planet side or the pre-departure pep talk with Hux.

Hux, in the less than days that has passed since their engagement, has filed the proper paperwork to register their marriage on his home-planet, picked out floral arrangements and the color scheme of their wedding (First Order black, gray and red, naturally). Ideally, Supreme Leader Snoke would deliver the keynote toast .

It was getting ridiculous.

"FN-2187, this is your first mission planet-side..."

This has become a common practice anytime '87 did anything regardless how mundane. '87 and Hux are in their room (turns out Hux had slowly been moving his things over), standing toe-to-toe. Hux's has a firm grip of '87's hands. He leaning down slightly to touch the top of his forehead to the top of '87's.

Hux's tone is always naggingly, mournfully, and terrifyingly sweet. "I'm worried something will happen to you out there." He kisses '87's forehead and rests his chin atop '87's head, "Come back safely, okay, sweetheart?"

"Yeah..." '87 says, backing away. He wasn't sure when Hix had started saying sweetheart but it was his go-to lately. "I have to go to the hangar now so..." He pull out of Hux's grip, "I'm leaving. Now."

"Okay." Hux sighs tearfully like a parent watching their child go off to their first day of school. '87 runs down the hall, hoping Hux didn't try to stop him.

The mission was all sorts of awful but he has a pilot, the last step of his plan. All he has to do is break him free, which turns out to be surprisingly easy beyond the scare with the TIE fighter and the chord.

The pilot's Dameron, Poe Dameron. Resistance pilot. '87--Finn, it was okay by him to be called Finn--didn't know there were such normal people in the universe.

\--

"Sir, the prisoner has escaped. Aided and abetted by one of out own!" The officer salutes his report to Hux on the bridge.

Hux is eager to see if FN-2187 is alright and didn't much care for the escaped prisoner. They extracted all they could from him and the surface scans will probably confirm both were dead on impact. It was the droid they needed. But as a formality of his post, Hux inquired anyways. "Who helped the prisoner escape?"

"Stormtrooper FN-2187, sir."

Hux's distracted gaze sharpened instantly and he forced the officer to repeat the designation. "It's a mistake." Hux says quite simple, disbelief saturating each word.

"I don't think so." Kylo's modulated voices chimes in front of him. "I wonder what he was running away from."

Phasma bit her tongue and hoped Kylo would follow suit. "FN-2187 must have been forced to do it. The Resistance scum must have overpowered him..." Hux imagines scenes of horror and a light gasp escapes his lips.

"No, I think he just left." The modulated monotone pieces through the now very silent bridge.

Hux ignored him. The crash landing. Oh no. No no no no no. "Survey team! Did they survive the crash?"

"We have two potential life readings from the crash site, sir. Thermal heat from the derby makes it hard to get an absolute confirmation."

"Lock onto them and prepare a shuttle."

"Sir?"

Hux repeats his orders and steps off the bridge. "You're husband's coming for you, FN-2187." Hux mutters under his breath as he heads to the hangar, "Even if I have to set the galaxy aflame!"

\--

Meanwhile, Kylo is on the bridge, collecting 10 credits from Phasma. As Phasma finishes paying him off, "I shouldn't have underestimated the prowess of my best solider. But waiting until the night duty still would have been tactically better."

Kylo counts the credits before stuffing them in his belt. "If he had waited that long, he wouldn't have been able to escape Hux. I tried to warn him multiple times but he didn't listen."

Phasma shrugs, still believing the tactical route is the best route. Both sets of mask stare out at the shuttle making it's ways down to Jakku. Phasma salutes. "Godspeed, FN-2187. Godspeed."


End file.
